How Can You Live If You're Too Afraid to Die?
by JT4Life
Summary: P/O: Sometimes all that needs to be said is almost nothing at all.... LAST CHAPTER UP! enjoy :
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone, happy saturday :) Here's something I wrote, title off a song called 'Young Men Dead' by the Black Angels. I was listening to it and that one line just popped out at me. I like writing about aftermath & repercussions, and this is a perfect example of it... sorry if i might have become a bit predictable! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this kinda angsty bit. I was in a bit of a dark mood..._

_Disclaimer: Don't own it. Whatevs. JJ's doing pretty darn good from where i sit :)_

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**How Can You Live If You're Too Afraid to Die?**

"_How can you live if you're too afraid to die?"_

It played over and over in her mind like a broken record in that raspy voice that chilled her to the bones. The voice of evil, for there was no other way to describe him. Knees pulled tightly to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around to hold them in place, Olivia quivered in the corner of her office. She had been held captive by evil, and only now, hours later, had the shock of the encounter finally sunk in. She had been surrounded by people moving, talking, providing distractions. But now she was alone, and only when she was alone did all her fears come rushing back to disturb her mind, her body, her very being.

Another wave of nausea washed through her body and Olivia gulped uneasily. The nausea made her feel hot all over, but the chills that wracked her body every minute or so countered her need to remove even one piece of clothing. She gritted her teeth. The bouts of nausea were becoming more frequent, the chills more severe. The instant that her mind was off the pain, thousands of 'what if' questions began to pop up in her head.

_What if the Bureau had never come to my rescue?_

_What if I was still there now?_

_What if I had died?_

Olivia forcefully blocked out the thoughts, else she knew that she would go crazy from the stress of it all. Not to mention that gruesome, horrific images that those 'what if' scenarios might have created, had they come to pass, flashed through her mind's eye and made her cringe….

She really had to stop thinking about it. Everything. She just had to stop thinking and then she would be ok. Her mind would be able to rest and, with it, her body that ached and screamed at her in various places. Her wrists, where the leather thongs had bound them tightly, were red and throbbing from being hoisted above her head and attached to a hanging chain where she'd hung a foot or so above the dirty concrete floor. Her knuckles, elbows and knees were all bruised and cut from punching and kicking at anything she could. Olivia rolled up her sweat-soaked sleeves and pants with shaky hands to find rainbows of blue, purple, yellow, pink and orange forming and spreading rapidly outwards like a blight on her pale skin. She fumbled to pull down her pants and blouse sleeves quick enough. The pants were dirty, scraped up and sporting a few off-colored patches where the material had thinned over the course of the day and, in some places, completely worn through. Her sleeves were nothing less that a mess – dirty, frayed and ripped at the cuffs, and missing all the buttons. Making a face at the inflamed red wrists that had taken the place of her own, Olivia yanked down the sleeves as far as the material would allow without falling apart to cover as much of her skin as she could.

A labored breath escaped her lips and Olivia clued in to her bruised, and quite possibly cracked, ribs. A hiss of pain was trying to push itself free of her lungs, but she wouldn't allow it. This was what she got for refusing medical treatment, or any treatment of any kind from anyone, for that matter. She'd barely had a conversation with someone that had lasted longer than twenty seconds – staying detached from everyone was, in her opinion, the best way to handle things. Running on adrenaline for several hours straight, and then another two in the hectic goings-on after she was saved had numbed all her injuries… until now. Stopping and sitting meant letting everything come crashing down on her, both the mental and physical components. She couldn't decide which was more painful at the moment: The injuries, or the memories of sweat, tears, torture, and pure untainted fear.

Cold sweat of the day number thirty-something formed on her back and chest and Olivia began to shiver uncontrollably. She had never been so scared in her entire life as she had been in that God forsaken warehouse. Her captor was adept at instilling fear in his prisoners, using more words that devices to torture victims. It was the one thing Olivia could feel remotely thankful for; the fact that he didn't physically hurt her too much – honestly, she'd expected worse in that department. But it was the words, the way he spoke them, which had invoked a fear like she'd never known, and didn't want to ever experience again. Many horrible things had been spoken that made her very skin crawl, but the worst was when he had approached her from behind and breathed throatily in her ear, "_How can you live if you're too afraid to die? How do you do it, little Livvy? How do you wake up in the morning and go about your day, knowing that death is right around the corner? It scares you, doesn't it Livvy? Death scares you, so you'll never beg for it. So we have a little more time to talk now, don't we?_"

_Stop it stop it stop it stop it…_

Olivia's mind was under too much stress. The memory was too traumatic, it needed to be buried and, eventually, with time, forgotten. But Olivia wasn't going to kid herself – there was a difference between stuffing it into a box in the darkest corner of her mind and throwing it out all together. There was little hope that she would ever be able to truly forget. It was one of those memories that would come back to her every night, as she lay alone in the darkness. It would do just that, no matter how many chains she shackled around it, no matter how many barriers and enforcements she used to shield herself.

Breathing had become a strenuous task and Olivia felt suffocated. The room was suddenly stuffy and hot, her clothes felt like they were tightening on her skin, constricting her. Her pulse skyrocketed and an overpowering urge to scream and run as far as she could and further still overcame her completely, but she fought it with all her remaining willpower.

One sane thought crossed her mind. _This must be what it feels like to go mad… poor Walter, I can't imagine enduring this for seventeen years…_

After a few minutes, the bloody battlefield that was Olivia's mind was silent. She almost cried with relief. But the silence was only momentary, and the visions soon returned in full force. Still huddled in her little corner, Olivia let her head loll back against the wall and just let them come. She gave up trying to protect herself. It was useless at this point to try and fail yet again to shield herself. So she succumbed to the power that her fear had used to take her mind and body hostage with no struggle whatsoever. It was almost easier this way, without time as a factor anymore. The hours meant nothing as they whizzed past her. She could sink into the darkness and let it overpower her, with no regard for the outside world that lay beyond her semi-closed eyelids. Nothing else seemed to matter. Nothing ever would.

X

Peter opened the door to the lab and the first thing he did was look around. Olivia wasn't anywhere in sight. Where was she? Peter swore under his breath and dropped the bags of groceries and the random items he'd grabbed for Olivia at the drugstore onto the floor with a little more force that was necessary. There was a coke, still chilled, that he'd picked out among other things that were for the purpose of cheering her up and taking her mind off the giant elephant in the room that Peter refused to think about and chose to blatantly ignore even when he was alone, which wasn't often. He'd been keeping tabs on Olivia for the past couple hours since she'd gotten back, while still respecting her unspoken wishes to be alone. He knew that she never was alone, and made sure of it for every moment of those two hours. But then he had to grab the groceries, and while out, he'd gotten the idea to grab her a few extra goodies. That had taken longer than expected, and now Peter was kicking himself for taking a full forty-five minutes to run his errands. He'd told her that he'd be back, right? He'd told her to stay in the lab, because he knew that people would be coming in and out for the rest of the day.

Peter swore again at the empty room. Then he remembered her office and made a beeline for it. He opened the door and swore loudly. Olivia sat slouched in the far corner, looking like death. Her clothes were somehow dirtier than they'd been when he'd left, her bruises and cuts looked bad, already larger and more painful over the course of less than an hour. But the worst was her eyes. They were half open but completely blank. He couldn't see his Olivia in them. There was no sparkle. No life. Just empty windows. He raced over to her side and crouched by her, feeling sick. Just seeing her like this…

"Olivia!" he slapped her cheek lightly, taking her face in his hands. She seemed unfazed by his actions and he resisted the urge to shake her. "Olivia! Can you hear me? Wake up, damn it!" Peter pulled her to his chest, rocking back and forth. She was like a rag doll in his arms. He grew more worried. "C'mon, Olivia, c'mon!" Peter set her back down and checked her eyes again. There was a hint of life in them now – some of the dullness was gone. Hope lit up his features like a Christmas tree and Peter took her face in his hands again. "Olivia, honey, can you hear me?"

He spoke very slowly and clearly to make sure that she could hear him. A small moan escaped her lips and Olivia's body shuddered as if it were coming back to life after a long sleep.

"Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh," Peter chided her gently; his voice much quieter and less frantic than it had been a moment ago. Scooping her up gingerly, he pulled Olivia into his lap and held her head in the crook of his arm, sitting cross-legged so that they could both could rest comfortably.

Olivia's eyes closed and then slowly fluttered open. For one second, she looked wholly like his Olivia once again. She smiled groggily and whispered his name softly. "Peter…?"

Her smile was infectious and Peter returned it only too gladly. "Hey, sweetheart, what happened?" Peter didn't care that he was using pet names like _sweetheart_ and _honey_. He would use them until kingdom come if need be. "What do you remember?"

A puzzled look crossed her face before the shadow came back, the same one that she'd been wearing when he'd first seen her chained up by her hands in that fucking warehouse. She just shook her head and gulped.

Peter stroked her pale cheek and sighed. "Why ever did I let you out of my sight for even forty-five minutes? I can't leave you by yourself for even a moment, can I?" He tried to smile but the attempt fell flat when Olivia shook her head to show that she agreed with his statement. She looked so small, just ling there, telling him that she couldn't be alone. It made Peter want to punch a wall. And then that guy in the warehouse. Maybe even use the guy to hit the wall once or twice.

Shaking his head of the thought, Peter gently touched two fingers to her cheek. "Olivia, you need to get medical attention. You're hurt, and then you need to go home and rest."

A switch must have flipped in Olivia's mind and his words must have been the trigger, for she sat up in Peter's lap and shook her head frantically, eyes wide with fear.

Peter sighed again. "Ok, I can treat you for your cuts and bruises, but you still need to rest."

"Not alone."

Peter did a double take. She'd finally spoken, but the voice he'd heard was nothing like his Olivia. It was a pained voice, one that knew too much and had seen too much. One that was smothered in the dull stupor she was struggling to remove herself from.

"Not alone… I won't leave you this time Olivia. I won't go for even a minute."

"Ok."

Peter gave her a small smile. "Good. Now where do you keep the first aid kit in here?"

Olivia nodded to the bottom drawer of her desk and Peter gently eased her up and propped her unstable form against the wall. The med kit wasn't the fanciest, but it would be enough to patch her up.

"Come on, let's get you home and get you cleaned up so I can treat you. And how about some new clothes?"

She gave him the smallest smile but Peter could see how much effort it took her to perform that one small gesture. There was so much pain behind her eyes; Peter couldn't even begin to understand what she'd been through, but he intended to help her as much as he possibly could, and then some.

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_More on the way no matter what, but reviews really do help the process along and boost my happy-o-meter :D And usually when i'm happy, i write even MORE, now how about that? ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hiya folks! This would have gone up sooner, but being at the cottage means driving into town and finding a hotspot for internet :) This is a bit longer than my last chapter, actually, a LOT longer, but i had the time to make it long.... and wjobsessed, it's rated T for more than just swearing and violence, don't worry!_

_Disclaimer: it's not mine, and it really shouldn't be. i'd have too much fun with it._

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At one point, Olivia was vaguely aware of the feeling of hands on her face, though try as she might, she couldn't tell whom they belonged to. Her vision was blurry and faded with the occasional flicker of absolute darkness. There was a voice that was saying something that sounded vaguely like her name, but she couldn't be sure. It was muffled and distorted like someone had stuck a crackly old radio underwater.

Then there was warmth. She was suddenly warm all over, enveloped in it and feeling quite secure after God knows how long her mind had been lost in a pool of semi-consciousness. The source of the voice was closer to her, barely discernable but still there. She used it as an anchor, something tangible for her to cling on to.

Then the voice came again. Now she could distinctly discern her name as one of the words that were spoken so gently and softly. Whoever it was, their voice was a sweet balm on her scarred mind. Olivia wanted to thank them, whomever they might be, but all that escaped her lips was a pitiful moan. A shiver wracked her body from head to toe. Cold sweat still clung to her clothes and skin like a sheet of arctic ice. More gentle words she couldn't quite make out, and two arms picked her up with care and then she was warm again, warm all over. With effort, Olivia forced her eyes to open fully. Her vision slipped into focus and she found herself in staring up at the face of Peter Bishop. She was so happy to see him, a smile graced her lips and she was brave enough to try speaking again.

"Peter…?"

He smiled right back, and if Olivia wasn't mistaken, there was a tear or two glistening in his eyes.

Peter was speaking to her again. "Hey sweetheart, what happened? What do you remember?"

_What had happened? What had…?_

Then Olivia remembered everything as it came back in a slow wave. She could see it coming before it breached the boundaries of her consciousness and she dreaded its arrival. Olivia shook her head as if to plead to the memories to not return, to give her peace. Simultaneously, Peter was saying something about sending her home and she panicked. Home wasn't with Peter, and she couldn't bear the thought of undergoing another round of… _that_… without someone by her side. Jolting upright in her panic, Olivia tensed up in Peter's gentle grasp and shook her head again, words coming out of her mouth all on their own.

"Not alone."

Peter seemed to understand and she relaxed again, letting him help her up and lean her against the wall while he retrieved the first aid kit form her desk. Without a moment of hesitation, Peter returned to her, offering a small smile, "Come on, let's get you home and get you cleaned up so I can treat you. And how about some new clothes?"

She had to agree with him there. Her clothes were disgusting and filthy, and what's more, she just wanted to get rid of everything that reminded her of this day. So Olivia tried her best to smile back and make him feel better, an endeavor that she knew would not succeed, but his small smile remained in place as she felt Peter's arm wind around her waist and grasped her tightly. Picking up some plastic grocery bags off the table on the way out, Peter maintained his protective hold on her hip until he was sure that she was safely in the passenger seat of the Vista Cruiser. Olivia was sure that he'd pushed the speed limit by a factor of at least ten the whole way back to her townhouse.

X

Peter glanced at the dusty odometer on the dashboard. He was traveling at almost fifteen miles above the speed limit of the quiet Boston side streets. No matter, they were only a minute away now… probably even less at this speed.

The Cruiser pulled up twenty seconds later with a screech of tires rubbing against the curb. Olivia jolted in her seat and Peter silently cursed his inabilities to parallel park.

He helped Olivia out of the car quickly; no more color had returned to her cheeks in the last ten minutes and a fresh sweat was accumulating on her forehead. He had the door unlocked and relocked with Olivia inside in record time. Maybe because she was being so compliant, listening to his every word and doing exactly as he instructed. It was disturbing to see Olivia Dunham so meek and so… not like Olivia Dunham.

"Here, go wash yourself off, and I'll get you something fresh to wear," Peter said gently, opening the bathroom door for her. He kept his charm smile set firmly in place to set her at ease, but so far it didn't seem to be working. Wide, glassy eyes glanced back at him and then into the bathroom. Peter flicked on all the lights and touched her hand. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to get you some clothes. I'm gonna be no more than ten feet from you the whole time, I promise."

Looking slightly more reassured, though it was hard to be sure, Olivia nodded and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. Peter waited by the door until he heard the sound of running water drift to his ears from the other side. With a deep sigh, he set off to Olivia's room and busied himself with finding something for her to wear. After a good amount of searching and the pushing aside of too many blouses and pants suits to count, Peter settled for a pair of plaid, flannel pajama pants, a black tank top, and a faded gray hoodie. The underwear drawer was less of a hassle – he just reached in and grabbed the first things his hands landed on. Going through Olivia's underwear drawer felt like an awkward intrusion into her privacy.

Gathering up the clothes in his arms, Peter hurried back to the bathroom and tapped gently on the door.

"Olivia? How are you doing?" No answer. Peter tried again. "Olivia? You are in there, right?"

Silence except for the noise of the running shower, then came a soft reply.

"Yes."

Peter released a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding in. "Are you almost done?"

"Um… not really."

A frown creased Peter's brow. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

The frown deepened. "Olivia, are you even in the shower yet?"

No reply.

Time to resort to his last option. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," spoke the quiet voice that belonged to Olivia.

Squaring his shoulders, Peter turned the doorknob and opened the door only to instantly be hit with an intense of wave humidity. Blinking, he took in what he saw; Olivia still fully clothed, just starring at the hot running water that had succeeded in transforming the bathroom into a sauna.

"Olivia?"

She turned slowly to him and in the instant their eyes met Peter knew what would end up happening. He was back to the damn underwear drawer.

"Hey Peter…"

Approaching her slowly, Peter decided that there wasn't really too much to say. He was committed to helping her, no matter how awkward it may turn out. He laid a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. God, she looked so scared, so helpless, like a little child. It was those doe-like eyes that got him every time; how he loved her eyes. Taking a deep, calming breath of the hot air, Peter didn't hesitate or waste any time. Pondering would only make him question his actions. Instead, he focused on keeping his hands steady as he began popping the buttons on her blouse one by one. His eyes were trained on her, occasionally flicking down to his hands, and her eyes on him. Then Peter's hand slipped and came into contact with the soft skin on her chest, making his face burn and his hands unsteady. Olivia's eyes, though already wide, grew to the size of saucers and her cheeks flushed bright pink. Peter finished the buttons off hastily, trying to block out the fact that he was being careless and his fingers brushed against her midriff several times, and that each time it felt like an electric shock was generated at their point of contact. That, and how the room seemed a good ten degrees hotter. He slowly eased the useless garment off Olivia's shoulders to reveal a plain black bra and bruises that nearly matched it in color. Peter grimaced. He would have a look at those later, he decided, as he helped Olivia's arms out of the sleeves. For a moment, he held her hands in his and examined her wrists meticulously. Those would have to be iced and wrapped up before they became any more inflamed.

He released her wrists gently and moved down to her hips to take off the ruined pants. Peter was beyond caring that he was constantly touching her in his efforts to undo the extra clip behind the button of the pants. Since when pants suits had become so complicated, he didn't know. The loosened fabric slid down her legs easily, revealing more minor injuries, again, nearly on par with the color of her underwear. Olivia stepped out of the tangle of clothing at her feet, wide, submissive eyes never leaving Peter's face. It broke his heart in two to see that his headstrong Olivia had been reduced to this dependant, fearful little girl.

One foot got caught in the fabric and she stumbled, arms reaching out to tightly grasp his already outstretched arms. Peter caught her, his hands reaching around and coming to rest on her small waist. Despite the excessive heat that was building up in the small room, a shiver ran down her back.

Peter tried in vain to forget that Olivia was, even in her current state, stunningly beautiful, and remember that he'd already seen her in her underwear numerous times between various incidents involving the tank. Peter sighed deeply. It was much easier said than done. He tried another approach; focusing on the fact that she was hurt and broken and desperately in need of his care, whatever it called for. It was with that mindset that he gently helped her into the shower. Removing any more garments was out of the question – even though Olivia wasn't fully herself, she wouldn't let him live long enough to regret his poor life decision.

Olivia's hand remained clamped onto Peter's wrist the whole way into the tub with a surprising amount of strength, his hand resting on the small of her back as support in case she slipped again.

A small gasp emanated from Olivia when the hot water hit her back. Peter's arm that Olivia had in her undying grasp was getting wet, but he could feel her strength dithering as the hot water relaxed her body. She stepped back, letting the water strike her head and flow down her body. Peter had to smile – Olivia was already looking calmer, more at ease. Her eyes remained shut as her shoulders visibly lost tension and her head drooped forwards.

Once his hand was free, Peter asked softly, "Does that feel better?"

"Yeah…" she replied quietly, her voice barely audible over the running water.

"Ok, I'll be waiting right outside –"

"Please don't go."

Peter was just happy that she was becoming more comfortable speaking. He smiled inwardly. "Then I'll sit and wait right here." He pulled the shower curtain closed to keep the heat in and sat down against the bathroom wall. The wall tiles were wet with condensation, but he didn't care. The tiles themselves were refreshingly cool on his back. For several minutes, all that could be heard was the rush of water from the shower.

X

The warm water felt good on Olivia's skin. She could feel the grime and sweat from the day rolling off her body as the water washed her clean. Eventually, standing had become an effort on her sore knees and she had resorted to sitting beneath the stream of water with her knees pulled to her chest. At first, whichever rib on her left side that had been either cracked or bruised hurt, but she readjusted her position until it was comfortable. If she were alone at home, this wouldn't feel nearly as comforting, but Peter's steady, even breaths reached her ears over the hum of water as it rained down on her head and shoulders. He was a comfort all his own. Even in the middle of some sketchy dark alleyway, Olivia could bet that he would still be just as, if not even more, reassuring. But then again, she had just allowed Peter to take nearly all her clothes off. That was more of an intimate comfort that she needed, but hadn't come to realize until it had happened. She was still debating whether or not it was a good thing that every time he touched her a swarm of butterflies erupted in her gut and electricity seemed to course through her veins.

It was truly amazing how Peter could do that – know exactly what she needed when she needed it and, in cases like this where such an aid could be extremely awkward, he remained calm… for the most part, and focused entirely on her. He did nothing short of dote on her, and all the more when she was hurt or weakened.

A lone sob fought its way free and she quickly covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Peter would only worry more than he already did if he heard it. Just the thought of being an even greater nuisance to Peter, sweet Peter who already gave his all to ensure her comfort and safety, made her choke back another sob, and another until she couldn't hold them down any longer. Olivia had lost all control over her run-away emotions; her throat felt tight and her eyes burned like they were on fire. Hand still clamped over her mouth in a last attempt to stifle her weeping, the dam inside her began to pour out, gaining momentum as it did.

The shower curtain slid back with a whoosh of plastic and fabric as Peter's head peeked in.

"Oh, 'Liv…" His voice was laced with so much sorrow, which only made Olivia sob harder.

He disappeared for a few seconds and then the curtain opened up beside her, at the opposite end of the tub. There stood Peter in nothing but his boxers looking down at her with a look of such empathy it was hard for her to continue to gaze at him. He slipped wordlessly into the shower and sat down behind her, wrapping his arms around her shaking form. Olivia could feel his chin resting gently on her bare shoulder as he whispered gentle, comforting words. On a sudden impulse, she abandoned all sense of reserve and forsook fetal position, leaning backwards into his embrace. Peter lay back until he was propped up against the back of the tub, Olivia lying against him, her head resting on Peter's chest. God, he felt so good. Just being able to touch him, feel that he was there for her, and all the warm feelings that it gave her on the inside. It felt amazing, like she was on a high. After the horrendous things she'd been through, this new high was a polar opposite. Then Olivia realized that she was still crying, pressed up against Peter's warm body, but they were no longer tears of grief, but of… happiness? Delusion? Insanity? What ever they were, Olivia found herself loving it. Loving it so much that she giggled a few times.

Peter noticed her sudden change of mood and readjusted his gentle hold on her small form.

"Olivia? What's wrong?" He stroked her hair gently with the back of his hand.

"Peter…" she managed between giggles, "Peter, I think I'm going mad…"

"No. Don't you dare think like that, Olivia. You're going to be fine, I'll make sure of it."

"Then why am I so damn _happy_? I'm supposed to be in shock and feeling like crap."

Peter's arm twisted around her waist and pulled her closer. "It's you're mind's way of coping with what you've been through, sweetheart. Plus, the fact that you can identify that you think you should be feeling something else is a good start. It's ok to have no idea what the hell is going on sometimes… you just have to trust me to take care of you, ok?"

Olivia nodded slowly. If there was one person with whom she could entrust her own life, it was Peter. She'd never admitted it to anyone, even herself, but it didn't make it any less true. What's more, as Peter spoke, his hand was gently playing with her hair; smoothing it out, getting rid of the tangles and knots. It was so soothing; he made it so easy for her to trust him in every way. In response to his touch, Olivia draped her arm on top of his that rested across her stomach, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together.

"I trust you, Peter. More than anyone else."

"Why?" He sounded slightly amused. Olivia could just picture that smug grin on his face and it made her smile.

"Because you're _Peter_. You're past has given me almost every reason not to trust you, and I still do. You're a good guy, Peter, and an even better one to me."

It took Olivia a moment to realize why the bathroom was suddenly significantly warmer than it had been a moment ago. That was a massive slip on her part, and she could feel the temperature rising in the small bathtub. Hell, the water pooling by their hips at the bottom of the tub would probably start boiling before long.

"Well," Peter began slowly, "I'm glad to know that I'm so trustworthy. And since we seem to be in the mood for sharing," Olivia could hear the smile in his words again, "you should know that I think you're not too bad yourself. You're easy to talk to when you feel like it, when you're not angry… and _especially_ when you're not armed."

At this, Olivia laughed. She couldn't help it. Flyaway haywire emotions or not, Peter knew how to make her laugh, and it was truly genuine laugh at that.

"Peter…" Olivia began after a moment, "Could I ask you something?" She was feeling much better, and therefore, slightly more talkative.

"Fire away."

"I was wondering if – AAAGHHH!"

The hot water had chosen that precise moment to run out, and an ice-cold downpour cut Olivia off mid-sentence.

"Come on, get out, get out!" Peter yelled above her shrieks and exclamations of just how freezing cold the water was.

Olivia felt two strong hands supporting her waist to help her up and she half fell out of the tub with Peter at her heels. Turning to spot him in case he slipped, Olivia found herself right in his path out and they collided. Peter's inertia took them both down and Olivia was sure the last thing she would hear would be the sound of her head hitting the tiled floor, but Peter caught her, twisted in mid-air, and they both landed sideways.

The first thing Olivia saw was that Peter was laughing too. He was also holding her hips, and overall holding her precariously close; enough that their noses would have touched had they landed any nearer. The tension built up as the laughter died down and Olivia could feel every nerve in her body telling her not to move, to keep her hands where they had come to rest on his forearms, to let the moment last and remain on the bathroom floor for as long as she could. Yes, the sparks had been flying all day, but it was as if all of those were just the teasers, and that everything had built up to right here, right now, and they way that Peter's green eyes seemed to sparkle with a light all their own….

"Rough landing. You ok?" Peter broke the moment like slicing through the thick air with a knife.

"Yeah, fine, sorry I got in your way…" Olivia shook her head and sat up.

"It's not your fault," Peter replied, standing and offering her his hand.

Olivia accepted, placing her small hand into his large one as he pulled her up. "Thanks, Peter."

"Don't mention it. I'll just go change in the other room. Do you have a…?"

"Towel… yeah, here," Olivia reached into a cupboard and pulled down two fluffy white towels.

"Great," Peter smiled at her, but there was still an odd tension in the air.

Olivia put her hands on her hips, and remembered how silly she must look. 'Hands on hips' was her default stance when attempting to have some kind of authority or standing in a conversation, but that was usually when she was actually _wearing_ clothes.

"So… my clothes are…?

"Right behind you on the counter," Peter finished for her.

"Great, thanks…"

"Just come out when you're ready. Or," Peter added quickly, "if you need anything, I'll be right out there, just let me know."

"Ok, I will," Olivia smiled politely back.

"And then I can look at those bruises and scrapes… just be sure you don't hurt yourself again before I can patch you up properly." He winked.

"I'll make a note of it." Olivia said, blushing. Did he really have that much influence on her with a gesture as simple as a wink?

"'Kay…" Peter fired her one last quirky smile, and, towel and clothes in hand, he ducked out, leaving Olivia in the steamy bathroom to brood over what exactly had just happened between them.

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_ok... that was long, i wasn't kidding! if you liked it, press that pretty 'lil green button and let me know :D_

_working on 'Impulsiveness' too, next chapter up soon!!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi y'all, long time no see! and that would be due to a massive case of writer's block, and the wondrous ways that life can decide to throw new things at you all at once, and decide to take up all of your time for months at a time. i'm sure you can all relate in some way :P_

_Point is, here it is: the next chappie that i've been struggling with for, well, months. and i'm sorry. y'all know that i suck at producing updates remotely close together. i really do hope ya like it and that it (and what more is to come!) will make up for my months of absence :) Ocein - i have you to thank for whipping MY butt into shape as well!_

_Again, i own nothing. zilch. nada. nu-thin._

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Olivia proceeded to get changed silently with only her thoughts for immediate company, despite the fact that she could almost feel Peter's presence in the next room.

Even though every rational voice in her head persistently insisted that she was being irrational to even consider the possibility that she and Peter had just had a so-called 'moment', a nagging little voice at the back of her mind that she couldn't shake kept her psyche at civil war.

It was still too hot in the bathroom to even consider donning the hoodie that Peter had chosen for her, so she slung it over her shoulder as she exited, leaving the door open a crack to help vent the steam and moisture. Peter was already changed and waiting for her in her room, med kit open and its contents spread across her bed.

"It always amazes me that those tiny red bags can hold so much stuff," she commented upon the sight of the excessive amounts of gauze, band-aids, creams, and other assorted first aid items.

Peter looked up at her arrival and smiled, his eyes lighting up with a special brilliance that he seemed to reserve for only the most special of occasions. The thought made a faint blush creep up her cheeks and Olivia averted her gaze to give the color a moment to fade.

"Have a seat," Peter patted the carpeted floor beside him, looking, Olivia decided, in much higher spirits than she'd seen him for the duration of the time he'd been caring for her. Now there was a thought – she was actually allowing Peter to really _care_ for her.

"What are you grinning about?"

Olivia looked up at Peter's face as she sat beside him and wondered if she really had become so transparent to him.

"Nothing," she shook her head and pulled one knee up to her chest. Immediately, Olivia regretted her decision to do so, for she had moved the wrong leg. That particular side of her body had the problematic ribcage, and she was unable to mask the hiss of pain that accompanied her regret.

Peter was quick to react, moving at the speed of light to be at her side and slowly extending her leg back into a comfortable position.

"How about we take a look at that one first?" Peter suggested gently. Olivia nodded and leant back slightly, bracing herself with her arms as Peter knelt beside her. "Ok…" he began slowly, "Tell me when it hurts." He applied a small amount of pressure on her lowest rib with two fingers, and then proceeded to work his way up her ribcage until Olivia uttered a small gasp, signaling that he'd found the source of her pain. "Right here?" He asked gently, applying lesser amounts of pressure along her fourth rib bone as she nodded, indicating exactly where it hurt. After asking her to do a few exercises that involved twisting or rotating her core, Peter came to the conclusion that it was probably a bruised bone as opposed to a muscular injury, seeing as certain physical activity didn't seem to cause her much pain.

Olivia was impressed.

"I didn't know you moonlighted as a doctor while at MIT," she joked, making him chuckle.

"You're starting to sound like your old self again," he said softly, meeting her eyes for a fleeting moment before turning back to the pile of supplies on the bed. Olivia smiled both inwardly and outwardly. It was a comforting thought in itself, and even more to hear it out loud from another person.

"What's next?" Olivia asked, gazing at the spread contents of the med kit.

Peter gestured to her. "You tell me, 'Liv. What hurts the most?"

Olivia took a moment to examine herself and decided that her swollen wrists should probably be the next to be treated. Peter agreed and set to work, using two thin silver packets that became cold to the touch when cracked and some tensor bandages to hold them in place. Instant relief flooded Olivia's nervous system as her hands went comfortably numb. Peter held her hands for most of the job and she discovered that she loved how warm they were in contrast to her now cold ones.

_Stop_, a stern voice in the back of her mind told her. _You're getting carried away._ Olivia ignored it. She wasn't getting carried away with anything. True, there were doubts and questions in her mind as to what exactly had happened in the bathroom, but it was also noted that Peter was back to being his usual charming self; if his thought mirrored hers in any way, he was hiding it.

"Ok," Peter began slowly as he put the finishing touches on her wrists, "I was wondering if I could ask you something."

Olivia nodded, eyeing him questioningly. "Sure, Peter." Something in his tone had changed and his head was bent over in concentration so she couldn't make out his expression.

His eyes rose to meet hers and nearly gave him away. "I know that you think you're fine, but I… I saw some of those bruises on your body… And I'd like to take a look."

The look of question had changed to one of skepticism on Olivia's face. "They're just bruises, Peter. They aren't that bad."

_Liar_, the voice in her head spoke harshly.

"Do it for me, then," Peter explained. "Do it so that I can sleep soundly tonight without thinking I'd missed anything."

Her lips formed a tight line as a war waged inside her, threatening to build up in pressure and come spilling out of her. She was a liar in more than one way – she'd been lying to herself for the past few minutes, fooling herself to think that she was perfectly one hundred percent comfortable with Peter in this situation. More accurately, she was _too_ comfortable around Peter, letting him touch her, hold her, and take care of her like this. It wasn't in her nature to be so obliging and reliant on someone else. The thought sent a chill through her veins.

Despite the deafening internal bickering, somehow she heard herself say, "Fine, but they're just bruises."

Peter nodded. "From what I saw, they're more than just ordinary bruises if that's what you're implying."

She rolled up both her pant legs past her thighs and had to suppress her own shock. The bruises were already looking worse than they had less than an hour ago. And there were more. Plenty of small ones that hadn't passed the technicolor stage dotted her pale skin, but as Peter gingerly inspected her calves and thighs, she discovered that there were three massive ones that matched the color of the night sky; one on her knee, another on the back of her calf, and the last one on her inner thigh. The pain was worst when Peter touched that one. Immediately, Peter backed off, frowning deeply.

Olivia hastily pulled her pant legs back down to her ankles, keeping her eyes down. "You can't do anything for bruises anyways."

"The point," Peter said softly, cupping her chin and gently easing her face up to meet his, "is that I at least tried to make sure that you were alright. I don't want to see you suffer any more than you already have."

His eyes were hard with fortitude and sincerity, but it made Olivia appreciate just how much he cared for her. Peter must have realized it too, for he swiftly dropped his gaze and removed his hand from her face. The shock of his reactions kept her still fresh fears at bay and for that she was thankful.

Head cocked to one side, she considered the man before her for a moment. He was trying so hard to do everything he could for her, and then more, without even being asked. In fact, she thought with a grin, he had ignored her wishes to be left alone after putting up with them for a couple hours, once again, solely for her sake. And now, as she sat watching him, a pang of guilt hit her square in the chest for, on top of being a complete hindrance to him and utterly helpless, she had brought down his once-high spirits by refusing his help.

For all of that, Olivia felt like crap.

"Hey," she said softly, one hand on his arm, "if you really wan to check me over, then you can. It's not my place to refuse your care… It's just…" she struggled for the proper words to articulate her feelings, "Peter, you know me, and I'm sorry I'm being a less-than-model patient, but… this is all new to me. Try to bear with me and… and…" Olivia trailed off, slowly exhaling as she did so. "And if you really feel want to, you can check my bruises... _all_ of them."

Inscrutable eyes stared back at her for a moment before a flicker of relief flashed across his face. "Thank you, Olivia."

She only nodded back, as there was no ounce of trust installed in her vocal chords. Olivia had come to the conclusion that opening her mouth as little as possible dramatically decreased the chances of saying something that she might later regret.

Keeping her mouth shut was all she could manage as the sensation of Peter's hands on her bare back lit fires under her skin. When they found a bruise, the hands would stop and examine it, sending a mixture of signals – both pain and pleasure – to her brain. Biting her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood, Olivia refused to let him know what effects he was inflicting on her body and mind. She was tough. She would not break down, not give into the temptation of letting even the smallest sound escape her lips. Peter sat behind her on the carpeted floor, and therefore could not see her face, brow furrowed, eyes held tightly shut, and the lengths she was going to in order to maintain her exterior calm.

"'Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Try relaxing your upper back a bit, it can't be too comfortable for your muscles to be so tight."

Olivia obliged without question and was stunned to find that her entire frame had been rigid with the strain of containing her emotions.

"Feels better, doesn't it?"

"It does, thanks."

"No problem," he smiled. It didn't matter that they weren't face to face. Olivia knew by the trill in Peter's voice, by the way he ended his sentence that a big ol' grin was plastered on his features. "There, all done."

Olivia felt the warmth that his hands brought beginning to fade after he gently pulled her shirt back down, fingertips dragging along her spine the whole way down.

A shiver wracked her body, even though she wasn't the least bit cold.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes," she lied.

And the hands were back, rubbing up and down her bare arms at a steady tempo. Olivia was sure that time had to be slowing down as the rhythm slowed and the hands came to rest on her shoulders. Peter's body was suddenly up against hers from behind as he held her to him. If Olivia had felt slightly warm before, then she was willing to bet that a fever was raging inside her at a smoking 105 degrees.

They sat together in silence for a minute, a full minute that Olivia took to just enjoy the feeling of being held.

"Thank you," she mumbled. Something had to be said, but she wasn't sure what else she could do other than thanking him as best as she could manage.

"You're very welcome," a soft reply came from somewhere over her left shoulder.

Olivia nodded weakly. There was nothing else to do, nothing else to say at that particular moment in time. Her head began to loll, sinking slowly to her chest in pure exhaustion, and Peter didn't miss it.

"C'mon, let's get you into bed." Any other time with any other guy, Olivia would have rounded on the man in question and let him know just how good she was at hand to hand combat. But not for Peter. With him, there was only a staggering relief that a warm bed beside her had her name written all over it, and that Peter Bishop was going to help her into it.

_Wait._

But her exhaustion was arriving in waves, each one completely obliterating her immediate consciousness, and any worries about what was said or thought.

Peter cleared the medical supplies off the bed with a sweep of his arm and back into the small, red bag. He then bent to retrieve her drooping form from the floor, hooking an arm under each of hers and lifting with an ease that Olivia had not expected. She didn't know what had made her so tired so quickly, but it was reverting her body and mind to their previous vegetable-like state. At least, this time, there were no horrors invading her consciousness – not yet at least.

She rolled into the bed, sheets so soft they felt unreal; caressing each part of her as the mattress dipped slightly under her weight. It was literally the feeling of sinking into the mattress, and Olivia was happy to feel her tight muscles, sore joints, and shaky limbs all relaxing as she did so.

The side of the bed sagged as Peter sat down beside her, close enough that his hips touched hers.

"Try to get at least a couple hours of sleep, ok?"

Olivia delivered a slurred mumble of amusement. "Trust me, that's not gonna be too hard."

A grin was his reply, golden and glowing in the light from the bedside table. "Well," he began with a chuckle, "you look like you might pass out before I finish my sentence, so I won't keep you up."

"Much appreciated." Olivia smiled and gave into the need to close her eyes; her eyelids felt like they were made of super-dense lead.

However, the explosion of warmth that originated in the middle of her forehead as Peter kissed her brow seemed to knock the weights off her whole body, replacing them with a blanket of energy, the source of a light tingling sensation; a steady pulse that flooded her systems with vitality.

"Thank you, Peter…"

"Sleep well, 'Liv. I'll be here."

Peter pulled away slowly from her, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A small smile graced her lips and it made Peter smile in turn. She really was looking much better than when he'd found her curled up in a corner of her office. He found it amazing that she had the strength to be able to turn around from something like that in such a relatively short time. Olivia's slow, steady breathing pattern told him that she was already fast asleep. His smile grew. She really was beautiful, and even more so in sleep. All he could do was pray that she could have this one, peaceful, dreamless sleep; God knows she needed it.

Rolling slowly off the edge of the bed as to not wake her, Peter clicked off the small lamp and circled the room to the opposite side of the bed by feel. He really wasn't that tired; he would just lie beside her so that he would be right where he needed to be, should she need him in the middle of the night. Peter smiled in the darkness, letting the worlds play across his mind. _Right where he needed to be_. This was definitely it. One glance at the pale silhouette of the woman beside him said it all.

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_Sooooo how did I do?_

_you know the drill, you know the thrill - you know you wanna click that green button down there.... ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

_I know that this is much shorter than the rest of the chapters... but i think it fits. tell me if you agree!!! I didn't really have an ending planned, but i'm quite happy with how this one turned out :)_

_As always, I own nothing fringey._

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Peter stirred in the night when he felt the mattress shift. He'd told himself that he was in a deep sleep, but there was some part of his subconscious that was honed in on his immediate surroundings – monitoring Olivia, who lay beside him.

Sleep was completely obliterated concept when he noticed that Olivia was in fact not lying beside him, but sitting upright in bed, knees drawn to her chest beneath the blankets, and starring straight ahead. She didn't even flinch when he sat up slowly beside her.

Neither spoke a word to break the comfortable silence. All the while, Peter's eyes were trained, unwavering, on hers. They were glassy and dark in the pale light coming through the cracks in the blinds. The weak light also made her skin look even paler than it already had been that last little while, giving Olivia the air of someone who was eerie… almost haunted in appearance.

Finally, Olivia's gaze shifted from that unidentifiable point that had her seemingly transfixed and fell on Peter. Now it was a starring match. Peter just looked her face over once again. Pale, looking even paler in the shadows that whispered across her features now that the light ambushed her from the side. Without initially realizing it, Peter found that his hand was gently brushing aside the disheveled strands of blonde hair glowing silver in the streetlight's hazy glow; her ghostly likeness was even more exaggerated. _God_, Peter thought. Her skin was even cold beneath his fingertips.

A lone tear slid down her cheek. But once again, Olivia did not betray anything beyond that tear. Peter wiped it away with an easy swipe of his thumb, bringing his other hand up to rest lightly on her cheek. Troubled, desperate eyes gazed, pleading, back into his; finally the first sign of weakness in her fortifications. Peter frowned as he always did when he was concerned, the ever-familiar line forming on his brow. The mattress shifted and squeaked as Olivia slowly turned to directly face him. Unable to deny the plea in her expression any longer, Peter leant in until their foreheads touched, hands still cradling Olivia's head. Two small hands gingerly touched his chest, testing the grounds, before ten fingers curled slowly into his thin t-shirt. Peter's hands had minds of their own, migrating down her back to hold her even closer to him. Deep, shaky breaths mingled in the small airspace between lips. Another squeaking of springs signaled Olivia moving closer still to him, their lower bodies now pressed together.

Tingles ran through Peter's body like electricity but he didn't push it. _I won't take advantage of her._ And yet, somehow, their lips met somewhere in the middle, the result of a combination of both his and Olivia's actions. Balance wasn't important anymore as Peter used one arm to support himself on the way down. Olivia was already down beside him, inching one leg around his, as Peter began to roll himself on top of her…. He stopped midway, pulling away slightly. It felt to so right, so natural, so perfect, but not at her expense. She was hurt, unwell, probably not thinking clearly –

"Peter," her voice, small and quiet interrupted his thoughts, "I want this. Right now, now I want to really _live_."

Looking into those beautiful, expressive eyes telling him that she needed him just as much as he needed her, Peter smiled, keeping his eyes open only long enough to see her smile in turn, one like he hadn't seen grace her features in months, before letting them shut slowly, her lips holding the key to his compliance.

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_There it is folks, that's the end! thank you all very much for sticking with this story to see it through.... even though i have obvious issues when it comes to updating!_

_;)_

_I'd love to know how I did... in a lovely lil review :D_


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